Remnants
by tuesdaymidnight
Summary: Five years after the war, Draco receives a note from Harry that crushes him, and he starts to wonder just how damaged Harry truly is. Post DH, EWE.


**Disclaimer:** All Harry Potter characters herein are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No copyright infringement is intended.

**Author's Note:** This story is just plain sad, so if you only like HEAs, this story probably is not for you. This has not been fully beta'ed, so I apologize for any mistakes.

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><p><em>I'm sorry, Draco. I tried.<em>

They were just five words scratched messily on a piece of parchment.

It was only a matter of time and Draco knew it, but that didn't stop him from feeling utterly gutted, hollowed, like a piece of him had been ripped out. He didn't cry, that would be unbefitting the head of the Malfoy household, but he did curl up on himself under his duvet, right in the middle of his king-size bed, a bed he was now going to have to destroy to erase the memories.

He could still smell Harry on the pillow he clutched to his chest, like it was a piece of Harry's soul.

He shooed away, rather rudely, the house elf who brought breakfast, but the elf had come with a tray of apple pastries, Harry's favorite, the ones he had gotten Draco addicted to. They were made in the new wizarding bakery in Hogsmeade, and Draco had a standing weekly order he would now have to cancel.

He would do it later. He would take care of all of it later. Right now, he couldn't do anything but try to cling to his sense of reason, while his heart shattered around him.

Granger, it never felt right to call her Hermione, came by later that morning. Draco knew she would. He imagined that Harry had sent her a similar note, probably via the same brown post owl. Harry's own owl, a spotted grey, was in the Malfoy owlery. Draco was going to have to sell the owl too, or maybe he could give it to Teddy. The boy could use a pet.

Draco wanted to turn Granger away, but he couldn't bring himself to. She had become sort of a friend to Draco, too. United at first by their mutual concern for Harry, they soon came to realize they actually had a lot in common when there wasn't a war and childish pride hanging between them.

She wouldn't let him cut her out of his life, Draco knew, no matter how hard he tried.

She sat down on the edge of the bed and rested her hand on Draco's calf.

"He'll come back."

"He won't."

"You can't-"

"He won't."

This time Granger didn't argue, even though Draco could see she wanted to.

The thing was, Draco knew Harry better than anyone. That honor _used_ to belong to Granger and maybe before that to the Weasel, but when the two of them finally got together, something shifted in The Golden Trio's dynamic and Harry was cut out. Draco sometimes thought Harry planned it that way so it would be easier for him to slip away, but he could never voice that opinion to Granger.

After three years together, five years since the war, Draco's life had become so intertwined with Harry's that he actually cared about not upsetting the bushy-haired woman. Somehow, all the people who cared about Harry started caring about Draco, and now he was caught in the middle of this weird circle of friends and extended family. Though he would never, ever admit it to anyone, he even found himself enjoying gatherings at the Burrow.

Draco was going to have to uninvite himself from Sunday dinners there now, though, and probably sell his shares in Weasley's Wizard Wheazes. He knew no one would blame him for Harry's disappearance, and they would probably be hurt when he started to dodge them, but it couldn't be avoided.

They really were like Harry's family, only they didn't know how broken Harry was, partly because he put on a brave face around them, and partly because he didn't truly even know it himself, at least not right away after the war. Draco wasn't around him much then, but to hear Harry tell it, he tried very hard to do the "right" thing. He tried to be there for the Weasleys while they mourned the loss of Fred, but as they all started moving on, embracing life in a safe world, Harry found that his grief never waned. He started pulling away from them, and recently it was Draco who accepted the invitations for dinners and holidays and reminded Harry of them.

During one of their many discussions over tea, Granger admitted Harry wasn't the same after the war, but Draco knew that Harry was _never_ really okay.

It was all Voldemort's fault, and Draco felt comfortable blaming the Dark Lord for the wreck that was Harry's life. Harry won the war for the wizarding world, but the damage to their hero was long done. Of course, the blame didn't end with Voldemort. It also belonged to the Dursleys and Dumbledore and probably even Snape. All of them were dead, except the Dursleys, and Draco had taken a Wizard's Oath not to harm them.

Harry didn't want anymore fighting or revenge, even though he was the victim of their abuse for a decade.

According to the mind-healer they were forced to go to before they were allowed back into the intense NEWT training program at Hogwarts, Draco had "post-traumatic stress," but he knew his case was nothing compared to Harry's.

He was going to have to switch mind-healers now, too. It was a shame, because he really liked Healer Cavendish, but it was in her office where Harry and Draco reconnected. Harry spoke at Draco's trial, but not again until the moment they found themselves both crammed into the plastic seats in the waiting room. Harry spoke first, stumbling over his words, eventually managing to convey that he had Draco's wand in his possession, the wand that ultimately slayed Voldemort, and he wanted to give it back.

Draco kicked Granger out after she started speculating where Harry would go. Her letter from him was more detailed, and somehow Draco took pleasure in the fact that Harry knew that Draco knew him so well, words weren't necessary. Granger thought he'd go to America, but Harry never really wanted to go across the pond. It was more likely he had gone to Russia. He had been learning the language, ironically to help Draco out with some of his business dealings.

Draco was going to have to stop the merger he was pushing there. The thought of hearing Russian again, even without Harry's terrible accent, made the hollowness expand.

Draco managed to get out of bed long enough to use the bathroom and splash cold water on his face. He wrapped himself up in a blanket and trudged out on his balcony, collapsing in chaise as if in exhaustion. He called for the house elf to bring him tea, anything but Earl Grey. The smell of bergamot would only haunt him. He called the house elf back and ordered him to banish all the Earl Grey tea, and anything else that Master Harry especially liked. The elf squeaked in surprise, but of course obeyed.

Draco sipped his tea and hovered on the brink of tears, blinking them away while he let himself think about Harry, the rest of his vain hope dying out.

Harry tried. He tried with Ginny first, but that fizzled quickly. Draco knew Harry _wanted_ to love Ginny, to marry her and have children, but he couldn't even make it work on the very basic level of physical attraction. Of course, the press had a field day with Dumbledore's protege turning out gay. Draco had to shell out a good portion of the Malfoy quarterly earnings to keep a story from printing that basically accused Dumbledore of the ancient Greek practice of _paiderastia_.

Draco was going to have to cancel his subscription to _The Daily Prophet_, too. He hated the press in all its forms and had only subscribed because Harry read it. Draco could never fathom why, but every morning Harry would sit and read it cover to cover.

"Paranoia," Harry would answer Draco's query with a shrug.

But Draco never knew exactly what Harry was paranoid of. Either libelous stories about himself or signs of the Dark Lord unfathomably coming back from the dead, Draco wasn't sure. Probably the latter. Harry never understood his own power. He never really understood that Voldemort was _gone_.

And he _was_ powerful, at times almost frighteningly so, when he would let himself let go, give in, and just feel. Harry was ferocious in bed. He would pound into Draco like a man possessed, leaving a trail of bite marks and bruises and sometimes even blood in his wake. He always apologized when he got rough, until Draco threatened to hex off his balls if he said he was sorry one more time. If love could be reduced to sex, then he knew Harry loved him, but it couldn't, because love didn't work that way, and Draco knew it.

Afterward, when they were sweaty and exhausted and coming back to Earth, Draco would try to throw an arm around him and Harry would pull away. Draco knew Harry was comfortable around him; he could remember the first time they were naked together and they compared scars. After Harry gasped at the _Sectumsempra_ marks across his chest and Draco spent what felt like hours reassuring him, it was like there were no secrets between them, but Harry still often flinched at physical affection.

It wasn't until Harry finally, _finally_, told Draco about his years with his horrid aunt and uncle that he started to understand Harry's shirking at affection and his fear of enclosed spaces. For all the horrors Draco was put through by Lucius, he never doubted his father's love. His childhood had been happy. His mother was always, and still now, warm and affectionate while inside the walls of Malfoy Manor. The first time Harry hugged her on his own, there were tears in her eyes. Lucius was less physical, but he adored his only son, and despite all of his bad choices, Draco knew that if it came down to it, he would have sacrificed himself in Draco's place. It had taken years of therapy for him to come to realize that, but he knew it was true.

By contrast, Harry's parents were murdered. He was neglected for the majority of his childhood. He was forced to risk his life for the greater good during each of his years at Hogwarts, constantly being tested, his life always in danger in a place where everyone else felt safe. He called Hogwarts his home, but he never truly felt the sense of security that came with a real home. He lead a battle, watched his friends die and held himself responsible for those deaths.

The fact that Harry could even smile was a feat.

At first, Draco accused Harry of refusing to get real help, urging him to take more sessions with Healer Cavendish, to consider taking potions that would block his memories, or even a partial _Obliviate_, an experimental treatment being used on some of Voldemort's victims. Yet, the longer they were together, the more he realized he couldn't be helped.

The first time he heard Harry's own theory, he thought it was absurd.

"Dumbledore always told me that love saved my life. Maybe it wasn't just my mother's love Voldemort destroyed instead of me. Maybe it was mine too. My life was spared, but not my heart."

"Dumbledore wasn't right about everything, you know."

"He was right about you," Harry had said quietly.

Draco tried to tell Harry that of course he loved. He loved Sirius. He loved Ron and Hermione and all the Weasleys. He loved Teddy. He didn't add his own name to the list, afraid of Harry's reaction, but he hoped against everything it was true.

"I just wanted a family."

"And now you have one."

"Then why do I still feel this way?"

"So what are you saying? You could leave us all behind and you wouldn't feel a bit of remorse?"

"I'd regret that it would be so hard for you."

Tears started streaming down Harry's face then, because self-sacrifice wasn't the same thing as love, and he knew it. Draco squeezed his knee, the most contact he knew Harry would accept, and let him continue.

"I _want_ to. I want to be normal. I want to feel what you feel for me. I just don't. Maybe I could have, maybe after everything, but when I saw Molly weeping over Fred's body after the battle, any hope I had to move on with my life died."

"You're just afraid of losing more people."

"Maybe." Harry didn't argue, but it was clear he didn't agree.

Draco tried. He tried so hard, to understand Harry, to try to make him see that he was important to so many people, not just because he saved them, but for who he was. He tried to make Harry see how rich his life was. Harry never became an Auror like he wanted to growing up. They offered him a position, but he wanted to take his NEWTs like everyone else. He prepared for them along with his peers, including Draco, but the day of the examination he never showed. Having enough with fighting evil, he realized he didn't want to be an Auror.

He was aimless for awhile, but he had been helping Draco with his business for the past year, and he worked with George getting the store back on its feet. Harry genuinely enjoyed working there. Draco could picture the way his face would light up when he was demonstrating Headless Hats and all the trick wands for the children who came in.

Draco pulled the blanket tighter around him and pulled his knees up to his chest. He would have to take down all the pictures he had of Harry around the Manor. Years of bad press made Harry hate having his picture taken, but Draco often caught him off guard when he was reading or playing with Teddy.

It was Harry's smile he was going to miss seeing the most.

He knew it was coming. The whole time Draco told himself it would never last, that Harry couldn't _do_ a long-term relationship. At first he thought that because Draco dared believe the rumors he'd heard about Harry's playboy ways, but then when he got to know Harry, he knew it was simply because Harry could never really give himself over to someone. Draco lived in denial for three of the best years of his life, but deep down he figured it was temporary.

He would often find Harry sitting in the dark in Grimmauld Place, usually in Sirius's old room. Draco feared that Harry would leave him the deed to the property. He always insisted that it was rightfully Draco's, but how could Draco ever go back there now? Harry never fixed it up, it was almost like a tomb, but Harry found comfort in its walls and often escaped there to be alone. Last night was no different.

"The numbness isn't going away."

"Harry," was all Draco could say, but he hoped the feeling behind it would convey what his words couldn't.

"I _want_ to, Draco. I just can't. I don't have it in me."

That was really and truly when Draco realized Harry was damaged beyond repair. He knew it intellectually, but it never really sank in until he saw Harry sitting on the dust-covered bed of his godfather. His hair, long and messy, was hanging in his eyes. His whole body was slumped forward with his forearms resting on his knees. At first, Draco thought he looked forlorn, but mostly he just looked tired, and he _was_ tired, tired of trying to feel at home around people who loved him but that he couldn't love back.

Draco finally let a tear slip by as he recollected the moment he realized _he_ was in love with Harry.

They had become friends slowly. After Harry returned Draco's wand, he invited Draco to join their NEWT study group. After NEWTs were over, Draco started inviting Harry out for lunch or coffee, during his break at the office. Lunches turned into pickup seeker's games on the weekends. It was the first one of those seeker's games when Draco knew he had fallen in love. He and Harry had both spotted the snitch at the same time; they were racing neck and neck toward it. Draco sneaked a glance over at Harry, who in turn winked back. Draco was so startled by the wink he missed the snitch by a mile, but when he saw Harry's victorious smile, he found he couldn't care less that he lost. He just wanted to see Harry smile like that again and again.

He would never be able to play Quidditch again, he thought with a start, adding it to the growing list of things that reminded him too much of Harry.

It was cruel, that love could be so one-sided, but he never doubted how he felt. It couldn't be anything else. Nothing else could make him feel so out-of-sorts and joyous and fearful and elated and topsy-turvy as he felt whenever he was around Harry. He tried to love enough for the both of them.

Draco had loved Harry so fiercely, more than he ever dreamed possible, but it wasn't enough.

Harry couldn't love him back.

He was sobbing now. He couldn't physically hold back the tears any longer while he thought about all that he lost with those five words Harry left him. Draco didn't want to cling to the pieces, the remnants, of the life he had started to build with Harry. He didn't want to be reminded of the love he lost, the love he never really had in the first place.

After all, there were only so many times the same man could break his heart.

_Fin._


End file.
